Part 67 (1/2)

”'Hear him!' was the hoa.r.s.e and furious reply of Judge Conway; and reaching out his thin fingers, a habit he had caught from Mr.

Randolph--he pointed at me where I stood.

”'Hear him! He affects innocence! He is outraged! He is indignant! And yet he waylaid my brother, whom he has hated for twenty years--he waylaid him like an a.s.sa.s.sin, and murdered him! There is the proof!'

”And drawing from his pocket a knife, covered with clotted blood, he threw it upon the grave before all eyes.

”Good G.o.d! It was my own!”

XXI.

THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE.

”At the sight of that terrible object” continued General Davenant, ”I staggered back, and nearly fell. I could not believe my eyes--never thought of denying the owners.h.i.+p of the fearful witness,--I could only gaze at it, with a wild horror creeping over me, and then all these terrible emotions were too much for me.

”I took two steps toward the grave, reached out with a shudder to grasp the knife whose clots of blood seemed to burn themselves into my brain--then vertigo seized me, and letting my head fall, I fainted.

”When I regained my senses, I was in my carriage, supported by the arms of my wife, and rolling up the avenue to my own house.

”Opposite me, in the carriage, little Charley, who, dimly realized apparently that some trouble had come to me, was crying bitterly, and a rough personage was endeavoring to quiet his sobbing.

”The personage in question was a constable. When I fainted at the grave, my friends had caught me in their arms--protested with burning indignation that the charge against me was a base calumny--and the magistrate who was summoned by Judge Conway to arrest me, had declined to do more than direct a constable to escort me home, and see that I did not attempt to escape.

”That was kind. I was a murderer, and my proper place a jail. Why should _I_ be more favored than some poor common man charged with that crime? Had such a person been confronted with such a charge, supported by such d.a.m.ning evidence as the b.l.o.o.d.y knife, would any ceremony have been observed? 'To jail!' all would have cried, 'No bail for the murderer!' And why should the rich Mr. Davenant be treated with more consideration?

”On the day after my arrest--I spare you all the harrowing scenes, my poor wife's agony, and every thing, colonel--on the day after, I got into my carriage, and went and demanded to be confined in jail. It was the first time a Davenant had ever been _in jail_--but I went thither without hesitation, if not without a shudder. No sooner had I taken this step than the whole country seemed to have left their homes to visit me in my prison. On the evening of the scene at the grave, twenty persons had called at the 'Pines,' to express their sympathy and indignation at the charge against me. Now, when the iron door of the law had closed upon me, and I was a real prisoner, the visitors came in throngs without number. One and all, they treated the charge as the mere result of Judge Conway's fury--some laughed at, others denounced it as an attempt to entrap and destroy me--all were certain that an investigation would at once demonstrate my innocence, and restore me to liberty and honor.

”Alas! I could only thank my friends, and reply that I hoped that such would be the result. But when they had left me alone, I fell into fits of the deepest dejection.

”What proofs could I give that I was innocent? There was a terrible array of circ.u.mstances, on the contrary, to support the hypothesis of my guilt--much more than I have mentioned, colonel. I had visited the courthouse on the same day with poor George Conway, and for the first time in twenty years had exchanged words with him. And the words were unfriendly. We had both been in the clerk's office of the county, when that gentleman asked me some common-place question--in what year such a person had died, and his will had been recorded, I think. I replied, mentioning a year. The clerk shook his head, declaring that it must have been later, and appealed to poor George Conway, who agreed with him, adding, 'Mr. Davenant is certainly in the wrong.' I was much annoyed that day--made some curt reply--poor George made a similar rejoinder, and some harsh, almost insulting words, pa.s.sed between us.

The affair went no further, however. I left the clerk's office, and having attended to the business which brought me, left the court-house about dusk. As I mounted my horse, I saw poor George Conway riding out of the place. I followed slowly, not wis.h.i.+ng to come up with him, turning into a by-road which led toward my own house--and knew nothing of the murder until it was bruited abroad on the next day.

”That is much like the special pleading of a criminal--is it not, colonel? If I had really murdered the poor man, would not this be my method of explaining every thing? You see, I do not deny what several witnesses could prove; the fact that I quarreled with Conway, came to high words, uttered insults, exhibited anger, followed him from the court-house at dusk--I acknowledge all that, but add, that I struck into a by-road and went home! That sounds suspicious, I a.s.sure you, even to myself, to-day. Imagine the effect it promised to have then, when I was a man charged with murder--who would naturally try to frame such a statement as would clear him--and when a large portion of the community were excited and indignant at the murder.

”Such had been the truly unfortunate scene in the clerk's office,--the fatality which made me follow the man going to his death, and my known enmity of long standing, supported the hypothesis of my guilt. There was another, and even more fatal circ.u.mstance still,--the discovery of the knife with which George Conway had been slain. That knife was my own; it was one of peculiar shape, with a handle of tortoise-sh.e.l.l, and I had often used it in presence of my friends and others. A dozen persons could make oath to it as my property; but it was not needed; the scene at the grave made that useless. I evidently did not deny the owners.h.i.+p of the weapon which had been used in the commission of the murder. At the very sight of it, on the contrary, in the hands of the brother of my victim, I had turned pale and fainted!

”This was the condition of things when the special term of the court, held expressly to try me, commenced at Dinwiddie.”

XXII.

THE TRIAL.

”A great crowd a.s.sembled on the day of the trial. Judge Conway had vacated the bench, as personally interested, and the judge from a neighboring circuit had taken his place.

”Below the seat of the judge sat the jury. Outside the railing, the spectators were crowded so closely that it was with difficulty the sheriff made a pa.s.sage for my entrance.